


all i want (I'm not too blind to see)

by questionsthemselves



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Fluffy Porn, M/M, but having fun, failing slightly at sex, no party like a ravager party, sap definitely sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 15:28:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11739906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/questionsthemselves/pseuds/questionsthemselves
Summary: Yondu turns to shoot him a wicked little grin.“Ya know…” he says, “it’s been a year since ya made first mate.”“Guess it is,” he bumps Yondu’s side companionably, trying not to stare at the way sharp yellowed teeth poke out from between smirking blue lips.Clearly he’s not as subtle as he thinks he’s being, because after a second Yondu bumps him back and says, “Ya know, I’ve seen ya lookin’, Krags”In which Kraglin and Yondu finally Do the Do and everything is not perfect, but it's still good.





	all i want (I'm not too blind to see)

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Write_Like_an_American - Happy Birthday, Cap'n! :drops fic into birthday pile and sidles away: <3

The galley of the _Eclector_ is a morass of sweaty leather and drunken cheers - there’s no kinda party like a Ravager party. 

Tonight’s is for the latest successful heist, and it’s gradually devolved from rowdy celebration into soused piles of semiconscious Ravagers heaped around the room. Kraglin’s lounging on the least sticky patch of floor he can find, listening to Yondu boasting about some past exploit to the crew left awake. Watching them, he feels a little twang deep in his chest. 

It’s been three years since he followed his captain into the stars. The pride he felt pinning the flames to his chest still fills him every time he pounds it in salute. He’s fought and fucked his way through half the crew, almost been accidentally spaced twice, and most recently made first mate when the last one tried to use evisceration as a promotional technique. 

It ain’t the kind of life he’d ever imagined, but he’s made a home here. 

And.

Well. 

There’s Yondu. 

All vicious swagger and mercurial charm, with a well-hidden sentimental streak the universe still hasn’t managed to stamp out of him – there isn’t another captain he’d rather follow. 

Unfortunately for Kraglin, Yondu’s also swanned his way into his fantasies until nearly all he thinks of alone in his bunk (as well unfortunately in rather more inconvenient places) is the feel of slick navy-flushed skin and sturdy muscles flexing against him, the way glittering hoops and chains would catch the light. 

He lets himself float along on rosy alcoholic daydreams, until he feels Yondu plops himself unsteadily onto an adjacent sticky patch of floor. 

“Howya doin’, Kraggles?” he says, leaning in to prop his chin on Kraglin’s shoulder. 

They’ve a developed an unspoken rhythm with each other, the sort where their push and pull has worn a comfortable groove into both of them.

Part of it that Kraglin greedily hoards is how Yondu’s personal space seem to vanish around him– and he’s not sure whether it’s all Centaurians, or just Yondu, but his captain radiates heat like a furnace. Relaxing into it, he shrugs.

“S’good, sir.”

Yondu turns to shoot him a wicked little grin. 

“Ya know…” he says, “it’s been a year since ya made first mate.” 

“Guess it is,” he bumps Yondu’s side companionably, trying not to stare at the way sharp yellowed teeth poke out from between smirking blue lips.

Clearly he’s not as subtle as he thinks he’s being, because after a second Yondu bumps him back and says, “Ya know, I’ve seen ya lookin’, Krags” 

His smirk widens as Kraglin swallows hard, and adds, his voice dropping low, “I’ve been watching back.”

Kraglin’s pulse starts to thud in his ears. He’s hyperaware of Yondu’s body against his, all the places they’re touching. 

“Fact is,” Yondu husks, rough voice purring smooth as honey,“I don’t think I’ve had a chance ta congratulate you proper like on makin’ a year – mebbe we should go do that now.” 

Kraglin bobs his head jerkily. 

Hell yeah they should.

“Yes _sir_ , ” he says, and scrambles to follow Yondu out the door.

 

 

After practically dragging him back across the ship, Yondu pulls Kraglin into his room, sliding the lock shut. Then with a considering look, he flips the light off too. 

The room goes pitch black.

Kraglin’s baffled. It’s not like he hasn’t seen Yondu naked before since everyone’s had to share a shower at some point, and now he can’t see a hand an inch away.

“Uhhh… sir?” he says hesitantly. “Y’know, I ain’t got good night vision.”

He can hear the bluster in Yondu’s voice when he grumbles, “Don’t need ta see ta have a little nookie-nookie.” 

Kraglin hopes the weighted silence communicates his skepticism. 

When Yondu continues to stand there all stubborn like, he sighs and feels in front of him until he grab onto grimy leather jacket. He grips it and walks backwards towards where he thinks the bed is, hoping desperately he doesn’t trip.

If this is what makes his captain comfortable, this is what he’s going to work with. 

He doesn’t get more than a step before Yondu loses patience and grabs his shirt to pull him into a kiss. 

Kraglin startles, then kisses back with enough enthusiasm that his metal capped teeth glance painfully off Yondu’s. Mortified, he jerks back, accidentally catching the edge of Yondu’s lips with one serrated tooth edge, making it well up with a drop of blue blood. 

“Ow, fucker,” Yondu grumbles, undeterred as he mouths his way down to bite a little along the tendons of Kraglin’s neck. He can feel each little sting like it has a direct line to his dick and he whimpers a little, and lets go of Yondu’s hips to tug at the edges of his shirt

“Off, off,” he says, giving up when the fabric tangles in gold chains and turns to shucking his own. His hands are trembling hard enough that he grunts in frustration as it takes him far longer than it should to push the down past his hips, and he’s just working them the rest of the way off when he feels Yondu grab at his shoulders. 

Unforunately for Kraglin, this means that instead of keeping a wobbly balance he tangles in his pant legs and crashes painfully to his knees. 

“Shit, dammit ow,” he hisses. He can feel Yondu, sans pants, follow him down seemingly deciding that since Kraglin’s already down there to abandon the bed. He tries to push Kraglin onto his back, and if he was ten years younger it might have worked but as is –

“Ahh, stop stop stop, I don’t bend that way, sir,” Kraglin says trying to unfold his gangly limbs from where they’re contorted painfully under him. 

He can hear Yondu grunt something wordless and decided to take that as an apology. He’s starting to wilt a little from all the logistics of this, but he’s wanted this, wanted it so much, for so long. He’s sure that if they can just find the rhythm, read each other like they normally do, they can make this work. 

Settling himself onto his back, he reaches up blindly to pull Yondu onto him, but his grimy nails catch instead on the side of Yondu’s face, scratching hard

Kraglin freezes. 

Of course there’d be a cherry on this clusterfuck cake. 

They both sit there a beat in silence, then Yondu crawls forward and makes himself comfortable on top of Kraglin.

“Ya know, that’s twice already you’ve made me bleed,” he says with a chortle. Kraglin’s face burns, and he throws an arm over his eyes. 

Sensing his embarrassment, Yondu continues to needle him.

“Ya know, if you’re into that sort of thing, ya might have told me,” he says, wide-eyed innocence in his voice. “I mean, I coulda guessed ya’d be a kinky lil shit, I c’n get with that.” 

“Stop it, thas not what – sir –“ Kraglin says helplessly, batting at Yondu until he loses it and dissolves into laughter. 

Kraglin gives up and grins, reaching to nuzzle at Yondu’s ear. Turning his head to give a final playful nip to Kraglin’s throat, Yondu sits back up. 

“Here, let’s try this again,” he says, and suddenly Kraglin jerks as he can feel him squirm back and settle over his hips, grinding deliberately against his wilting erection.

“S-sir,” he gasps, fluttering blindly for the captain’s hips. His mind starts to fritz, getting hazy with the way Yondu feels on top of him, rolling his hips and all but fucking him through his underwear. 

“Ya like that, huh? Gonna do me proper, Krags?" Yondu husks out.

Kraglin can feel the harsh drag of dirty cotton against his cock with each pulse, hear the little grunts Yondu makes in the back of his throat. Without his sight it feels like his other senses are dialed up to eleven and he helplessly bucks into Yondu’s ass, bracing his boots on the ground to try and get leverage. 

His enthusiasm manages to upset Yondu’s balance, and he falls forward onto his hands, bracing himself above him. 

Even the warning grumble and face full of halitosis isn’t enough to deter Kraglin now. He surges up and flips Yondu onto his back, shuddering as he lowers himself down, skin feeling like it’s dancing with electricity as every bit of his lanky frame is pressed against smooth-slick blue.

He slides his shaking hand down Yondu’s flank to hike up one leg so he can rut against the wet warmth between his thighs, then pauses, as he processes that there seems to be a little more wetness than anticipated. 

Reaching his other hand down, past Yondu’s stiff cock he can feel a dip and… well, that’s not exactly what he was expecting, but fuck if it isn’t a good surprise. 

“Can I…?” he whispers as he traces the edge of Yondu’s cunt, with just the tip of a finger. 

He can feel the frantic nod of Yondu’s head against the side of his face and he slips his finger in, gently rubbing before pulling out to trace around the edges and then slip back in. 

He does it over and over, finding a rhythm that makes Yondu writhe hard against him, hips pulsing up, up, into Kraglin’s hands. His grunts have turned into these throaty clicks interspersed with curses that seem punched out of him. 

“Ah, f-fuck” he gasps out, “yeah, thas good, c’mon _fuck_ me already, Krags –“ and he squirms away as he makes vague pushing motions in the direction of Kraglin’s underwear. 

Kraglin kicks it awkwardly down and grabs his dick to line himself up. It makes it difficult when he still can’t see a damn thing but at this point there’s not a bone in Kraglin that cares.

He sinks in slowly, pausing when Yondu’s whines start to pitch higher. When he slaps at Kraglin’s shoulders, he sinks in the rest of the way, mouthing frantically at Yondu’s ear as he’s wracked with tiny shivers, trying to control his urge to rut forward mindlessly. 

He shifts his hips as he starts to fuck in slowly, angling himself up a little until Yondu’s muscles stiffen and the pointed nails start to dig painfully into his skin. 

“R’t there?” Kraglin whispers, words slurring together. “Feels good when I fuck ya like that? Flark, you sh’d see, yer so wet fer me.” 

He stays there, trying to hit that spot every time, blood rushing to his head and making his nerves sing as Yondu dissolves under him. He feels drunker than he is, heady and sweet, on the sounds Yondu makes. 

It’s making him loose control faster than he wants to, he, _fuck._

“C’n ya come fer me like this?” he pants out. “Fuck, yer gorgeous, c’mon –”

He grabs at Yondu’s dick as he feels himself start to come, clumsily squeezing him tip to root as he buries himself as deep as he can, bracing himself on his other elbow. 

“Yeah, yeah, like tha’ _Krags_ ,” Yondu ekes out, and then Kraglin can feel wetness on his hand as Yondu’s back arches, every muscle locked and frozen, until he collapse with a gasping sigh. 

Easing down with a groan, Kraglin pools on top of him, bony joints digging into Yondu’s sturdy chunk. Yondu shifts uncomfortably underneath him before pushing him off with a little grumble. 

“Gonna puncture somethin’ with those pins o’ yours,” he says, bossily draping Kraglin around him. 

“Yessir,” Kraglin slurs, punchdrunk on endorphins, his fingers and toes still fizzing happily. 

As his eyes began to shut, he breaths in a lungful of sour sweat and smoke and sex that lingers on Yondu’s skin, holding it for a breath and trying to imprint it on his brain. It might not’ve gone how he thought this would go, but none of that matters right now. He’s here, held close, and he’s home.


End file.
